.37 M6 



D 639 
.S7 MS 
Copy 1 



lanoi 




Experiences 

in the 

German 
Espionage 



By 

M 



WHY I DESERTED THE 
KAISER'S SECRET SERVICE 
AND CAME TO AMERICA, AFTER 
PERILOUS JOURNEY FROM 
SOUTH AFRICA, THROUGH ENG- 
LAND AND HOLLAND TO GER- 
MANY AND OUT AGAIN, OVER 
ROTTERDAM AND LONDON, 
DURING THE GREAT WAR. 



Copyright. 1910. 









MY EXPERIENCES IN THE GERMAN 
ESPIONAGE 

It took one of your American humorists to 
invent a man so bold and reckless that he made 
even himself afraid. And it took me, your 
humble servant, to be that man ! 

At least, I am inclined to believe so, as I look 
back over the last two years and review all the 
perils to which I voluntarily exposed myself 
during that period. For what reason ? Solely 
for the pleasure and excitement of going 
through them, as far as I can make out. 

I am thirty-two years old. I am German- 
born, of decent family and decent education. 
Since I was seventeen, South Africa has been 
my home. Some ten years ago my tastes led 
me to take up detective work, and whatever 
ability I possessed, coupled with hard work, 
has made me head of one of the principal de- 
tective agencies in that quarter of the world, 
with headquarters in Johannesburg, The 
Transvaal. So much by way of preamble to 
my story. 

In 1914, when war w^as declared between 
Germany and France, I was in Durban, Natal. 
I had been there six days, having just returned 
from a trip to Europe — my seventh, by the 
w^ay — in which I had visited Germany and 
England. All German subjects in Durban 
were ordered to report to Dr. Speyer, the Ger- 
man consul there. I reported with the rest, 

1 



and 1 68 of us, all of military age, were ordered 
to leave Durban on August 6 on the P. & O. 
liner Borda, just in from Australia, and bound 
for London via Capet ow^n. We w^ere to report 
to the German consul in London, and he w^ould 
forward us to Germany, a perfectly legal and 
feasible arrangement, as at that time Great 
Britain had not entered the war and it was not 
expected that she would. So at least my 1 68 
compatriots thought. 

I knew better, for Dr. Speyer had taken me 
into his confidence. German officials expected 
war and were prepared for it. The 1 68, he 
told me, would undoubtedly be interned in a 
concentration camp somew^here en route, but 
I, he hoped, could get through. In that hope, 
he made me bearer of a sealed package of 
documents which I was to deliver to a certain 
person in London if I could, otherwise to de- 
stroy. I was warned that their discovery on 
my person vv^ould place me in a very serious 
position, and told that I need not undertake the 
mission unless I wished to. 

I undertook it. Why? Not out of patriot- 
ism. I did not love Germany or Germans. I 
had been away too long, breathing another air. 
I did love Englishmen. On my trips home, I 
shortened my visits to my parents that I might 
have as long a time as possible in England. 
Germany bored me, and 1 was out of sym- 
pathy wdth their ideals and customs. But I 
loved adventure more than anything else. I 
was eager to undertake the "stunt" of getting 
myself and that packet through to its degtina- 

^ ©CI.A4:J72G9 

^M 17/9/6 




tion. I was eager, too, to see something of the 
greatest war in history. I certainly did not 
propose to languish in captivity till it was 
over, and I knew that would certainly be my 
lot eventually if I remained in South Africa. 
Too many people there knew me as a German. 

So I undertook the mission, and I too had 
strong hopes that I could put it through. I had 
been in South Africa so long that 1 beUeved 
that among strangers I could pass myself off 
as a South African, without nationaUty. My 
English had the typical accent of the Boer. 
And I dressed habitually in English fashion, 
Scotch tweed riding clothes and cap, bamboo 
cane, leather puttees and all the rest of it. And 
I had my wits. 

My opportunity to test them came very 
soon. We were scarcely out of port when the 
wireless gave us word that Great Britain had 
declared war on Germany. There was high 
excitement. The captain of the Borda had 
received no specific orders, and knowing that 
his German passengers could not escape, he 
simply ordered the tables arranged so that 
Germans were placed by themselves in the 
dining saloon. The change was made in pub- 
lic, the first morning out, as the passengers 
entered the saloon for breakfast. The chief 
steward politely asked each his nationality, 
and the sheep were quickly parted from the 
goats. 

My only hope lay in carrying matters with 
a high hand, and I took my place with the Brit- 
ish passengers, none of whom knew I was a 



German. Posing as a born South African of 
Boer descent I cultivated their acquaintance, 
which was later to help me in the plans I was 
already laying. 

At Capetown, as I anticipated, ten British 
soldiers, armed with loaded rifles, were wait- 
ing on the dock, and only non-Germans were 
allowed to land. But I, clad in my ultra-Eng- 
lish togs, w^as not questioned when I marched 
boldly down the gangplank with my new Eng- 
lish friends and attached myself to a party of 
tourists for a motor trip around Table Moun- 
tain. 

I knew^ Capetow^n w^ell, and once clear of 
the ship set about solving my problem, w^hich 
of course, vsras tw^ofold. I w^ished, if possible, to 
escape detention and get on to London, w^hence 
I hoped, by luck, still to be able to make my 
w^ay to Germany. And I had, in any case, to 
make sure the incriminating packet vv^as not 
found on me in case I w^as subjected to arrest 
and search. 

In Capetow^n I had one friend. South Afri- 
can manager for an insurance company, w^hom 
I knew I could trust. Begging him to ask no 
questions and seek no information w^hatso- 
ever, I put my sealed packet into his care for 
the day, to be destroyed intact in case 1 should 
not ask for its return. I spent the afternoon 
and evening w^ith him, and got him to return 
to the ship w^ith me at midnight. 

Just before w^e reached the pier I learned 
that all my I 68 countrymen had been seized 
and marched off, bag and baggage, to a deten- 



tion camp, and that the authorities, suspicious 
of me, were awaiting my return. There was 
nothing to do but walk straight aboard, where, 
in the saloon, 1 found my luggage under the 
guard of two Tommies. I blustered in with 
what you Americans call bluff, and demanded 
of the chief steward what such proceedings 
meant. 

'Tm sorry, sir," he said, "but all Germans 
have been ordered to leave the ship, and these 
soldiers were set to guard your luggage till you 
w^ere found." 

How 1 blustered over that insult! I, a South 
African, a Boer who had fought and bled for 
my country, to be called a German — to be 
subjected to poHtical arrest in my own baili- 
wick! I ordered my luggage put back in my 
cabin at once. 

The steward humbly referred me to the 
captain, and leaving my friend to have a drink 
in the saloon, I sought that functionary, whom 
I found in his room chatting with the Cape- 
town agent of the line. Once more I sounded 
the whole gamut of righteous anger for their 
benefit. 

The captain listened very quietly, and when 
I had finished put the question I had been ex- 
pecting and preparing for all along. "If you 
are a South African," he said, "how does it 
happen that your ticket to London was bought 
and paid for by the German consul at Dur- 
ban?" 

I was ready for him there. "Unforeseen 
circumstances," I answered coolly. "The ship 



sailed before England and Germany were at 
war. The German consul at Durban had 1 68 
Germans to send to their fatherland by w^ay of 
London — a proceeding perfectly legitimate at 
that time. Most of them could not even speak 
English, and he needed a man to see them 
safely through. Because I w^as a traveler, be- 
cause I spoke seven languages, including 
English, Dutch and German, and because my 
w^ork as head of a detective agency in Johan- 
nesburg had made me w^ell known and trusted 
in all that part of Africa, he selected me, and 
part of my honorarium w^as my ticket. It w^as 
a perfectly natural transaction then, but of 
course now^ that England and Germany are at 
w^ar I am put in a very disagreeable situation. 
I think it's up to you to help me out of it." 

Instantly the captain reached for his tele- 
phone, w^hich had a shore connection, and rang 
up the Capetown police! He told them who I 
claimed to be, and asked them to send a man 
to the Borda to identify me. You can imagine 
the pins and needles 1 sat on till he came, for 
I very well knew what would happen to me if 
my story were not corroborated. But luck 
vv^as vsrith me. In a short time a detective came 
aboard, who recognized me at once. He w^as 
able to say that he had know^n me for ten years, 
and did not think I was a German. My friend, 
the insurance manager, also confirmed my 
statements, and there were apologies and a 
friendly drink all round. 

I retrieved my packet from my friend, and 
the next morning at daylight sailed on the 

6 



Borda, fully established as a reputable mem- 
ber of the ship's little world, and sure of get- 
ting through at least as far as London. As to 
what might befall me there it did not seem 
worth while to begin worrying yet. 

There was an AustraHan parson aboard 
who was very close to the captain, and I struck 
up a friendship with him. In that way I 
learned of a number of wireless messages, the 
receipt of which was unknown to the passen- 
gers in general. For instance, as we neared 
the Canary Islands the captain was informed 
that a German armed merchantman, the 
Kaiser Wilhelm der Gross, had recently sunk 
several British ships. 

A little later he received another wireless, 
purporting to come from a British man-of-war, 
telling him he could safely put in for coal to 
Las Palmas, in the Canaries. Instead, the 
canny officer immediately laid a course in the 
opposite direction, and his judgment was vin- 
dicated a few hours later when a British 
cruiser steamed alongside and gave us orders 
to keep clear of Las Palmas, as two British 
ships had just been sunk in the vicinity. The 
first message had been simply a decoy from 
the Kaiser Wilhelm. 

The rest of the voyage was uneventful, and 
the day after the naval battle off HeUgoland 
we steamed into the Thames and at Tillbury 
Docks were halted by a torpedo boat with 
orders that all non-British passengers should 
be sent ashore. 

The order put me in a serious predicament. 



because of my precious and deadly package of 
documents. I had but a minute for decision, 
and in that time slipped down to my cabin, put 
the packet into a weighted container I had 
already prepared for it, and chucked it out of 
the porthole into the secret recesses of the 
river. I w^as determined, if I erred at all, to err 
on the safe side. 

As it turned out, I had erred. We foreigners 
— myself and half a dozen others, Russian, 
French and Belgian — were merely set ashore 
because the government w^as permitting no 
foreigners to sail up to London through the 
mine fields in the Thames. Neither our per- 
sons or our luggage w^ere subjected to an ex- 
amination, and w^ithin an hour we w^ere going 
on to London by train. , .,. ...x -v^ ^ & ..■>, . ..^ ■■—. <^ 

I took rooms, as 1 often had before, at the 
Bedford Hotel in Southampton Row. My 
next problem was to get passage to Holland, 
and I could think of no one more likely to help 
me in that than Mr. Harold Irvine, the young 
mining magnate, who had been a particularly 
close friend of mine in South Africa. I tele- 
phoned him at once, and when he told me to 
call at his office the next morning, Wednesday, 
I felt my difficulties w^ere at an end. 

Promptly on the hour of my appointment I 
called at Irvine's office, wearing the tweed rid- 
ing togs I always affected. Between one 
legging and the calf of my leg were hidden my 
German military papers and the passport 
issued to me by the consul at Durban, while 



my coat pockets were stuffed with harmless 
personal papers. 

I was asked to wait for a little, and was 
ushered into the luxuriously appointed direct- 
ors' room. You w^ill remember that I had been 
in Natal only six days when war was declared, 
and had just returned from Europe then. 
Irvine was one of the last men I had seen before 
I left London, and as I sat waiting for him to 
receive me I pictured to myself his surprise at 
seeing me back so soon. 

The door to his office opened suddenly. 
Instead of looking into the smiilng face of my 
friend I found myself confronting tw^o stran- 
gers w^hom I, as a detective, instantly recog- 
nized as brothers in the craft. 

One of them held out his hand to me. "Wie 
gehts? ' he asked. 

It w^as hard to keep from smiling at the 
transparency of the trap. But I merely told 
him I did not understand. 

"Come, come, ' said the other, also in Ger- 
man, "you certainly speak German. " 

"I don't knowr w^hat you are saying," I told 
him, too, in English, and the pair vsrere obliged 
to use that language before I vs^ould talk. Then 
I quickly learned vs^hat had happened. At that 
time any person w^ho entertained or received 
in his home or place of business any German 
or Austrian subject w^ithout making a report 
to the police w^as liable to arrest and fine. 
Irvine, know^ing how^ recently I had been in 
London, could not believe I had returned to 
South Africa at all. Believing I had been in 

9 



Germany and had returned to England as a 
spy, he had reported my arrival to Scotland 
Yard. 

To the Scotland Yard men I repeated the 
same story I had told the captain of the 
Borda, and in proof that I had just come from 
South Africa showed the stub of my ticket. 
One of the detectives left the room then, and, 
w^hile the other questioned me, confirmed my 
story at the office of the P. & O. line. But 
they vv^ere still suspicious. 

"What are you going to do now^? " one of 
them asked. I said 1 w^anted to go to France 
and join the British colors. 

"But Mr. Irvine tells us you w^ant to go to 
Holland," the other put in promptly. "Why 
Holland, if you vs^ant to go to France?" 

1 had my story ready, and explained that 
some of my relatives had been in Germany 
when the w^ar broke out. They had been sent 
to Holland, and I w^anted to see them safely 
into England before I joined the army. 

It w^as not a brilliant creation. But in the 
absence of any proof that I was a German — I 
could fairly feel that military passport burning 
me inside my legging! — and in the presence of 
the papers w^hich amply corroborated the 
statements about my business in Jonhannes- 
burg, it held w^ater up to a certain extent. 
They became outw^ardly friendly and said that 
I might go, but must not attempt to leave Lon- 
don till a cable from South Africa confirmed 
everything. 

Such a cable w^as the very last thing I 

10 



wanted. It would prove my German citizen- 
ship beyond a doubt. Also, I knew that I 
w^ould be watched every moment I w^as in the 
city. My only hope was to elude the police 
before they wrere fairly on my trail. And any 
blunder on my part meant the detention 
camp. 

So instead of returning to my hotel, where 
I very well knewr a detective w^as also ready 
w^aiting for me, secure in the fact that I must 
come there for my luggage, I w^ent direct to 
Cook's office and booked passage to Rotter- 
dam on the Batavia IV, sailing that afternoon. 
I would not risk discovery by telephoning the 
hotel to have my luggage sent to the ship. I 
abandoned everything I had, and I suppose 
that the detectives later had the satisfaction of 
rummaging through my effects in a fruitless 
quest for enlightenment. 

The Batavia sailed from Tillbury Docks — 
w^here the Borda had landed me, you remem- 
ber — and there I ran into still more trouble. 
Instead of boarding the ship from a pier the 
passengers w^ere put on a small tug in charge 
of government officers. We vv^ere counted as 
w^e w^ent on board, and w^ere told to remain on 
the upper deck until called elsew^here. Then 
the tug steamed out to midstream and an- 
chored. "Passengers w^ill go to the deck be- 
low^ and have their passports examined," the 
order w^as passed. 

The passengers began to move belowr, and 
believing boldness to be the only course I made 
myself one of the first half dozen. But v^hen 

11 



I saw the ordeal I must face I really believed 
that the game was up with me at last. We had to 
go one by one down a narrow stair, at the foot 
of which was a table. At the table sat an elderly 
officer in the uniform of the Dutch immigra- 
tion service, flanked by two subordinates, 
while at either end stood an English detective. 
Escape seemed impossible. 

One by one the passengers in front of me 
presented their passports, answered questions 
acceptably, and w^ere permitted to pass on into 
the forward cabin of the tug. It came my turn : 
I said I had no passport. They asked me why. 
I told the same old story. I was a South Afri- 
can, 1 had no nationality, and I had started on 
my voyage before the w^ar broke out. I w^as a 
helpless victim of circumstances. 

And luck w^as vvrith me — such luck as I 
w^ould never have dared to hope for. That old 
Dutch officer had fought in the Boer w^ar. He 
knew^ the Transvaal w^ell, vv^hich gave him con- 
fidence that he could trip me if I w^as telling any 
lie. He questioned me in detail, asking for 
information w^hich could only be know^n to one 
vv^ho had been there. 1 answ^ered all his ques- 
tions so clearly that he told the British officers 
it w^as plain 1 w^as telling the truth. He over- 
rode all their objections about the irregularity 
of my papers, and I w^as passed on board the 
Batavia IV w^ith the other passengers, w^ho 
vs^ere once more counted to make sure there 
had been no stowaw^ays on the tugs. 

So I was through the lines at last, for of 
course the rest was easy. At Rotterdam, next 

12 



morning, 1 was the last man to leave the ship. 
Passports were again examined there, but 
this time I had one! I drew my German papers 
from my legging and showed them to the ex- 
amining Dutch officer. In neutral Holland a 
German passport had the same vaUdity as a 
British one. The officer stared in amazement 
to see such papers presented by a passenger 
from England, then understood, laughed, and 
congratulated me on my feat. 

Free at last, 1 reported to the German consul 
in Rotterdam. He ordered me to proceed at once 
to Wesel, a German fortress on the Dutch fron- 
tier. At the border a naval officer met me with 
a motor car and escorted me into Wesel. And 
then something very disagreeable became 
plain to me. After all the risks 1 had taken to 
join my country's colors, 1 was being taken 
into Germany a prisoner. 1 was not permitted 
to speak to any one, and was taken directly 
into the fortress. I was evidently under grave 
suspicion. The reason for it soon became ap- 
parent. 



i;i 



My reception in the German fortress town 
of Wesel, on the Dutch frontier, was part of a 
comedy of errors w^hich I found it difficult to 
laugh at at the time. I soon found that I w^as 
under as grave suspicion in Germany as ever 
I had been under in England. That rather 
netteld me, after all the risks I had taken and 
all the hardships I had endured to get back 
into the country. But the reason w^as plain 
enough, and natural enough, too, I must admit. 
My story w^as too good to be true. The au- 
thorities could not believe any German could 
have come, as I claimed to, from Natal to Lon- 
don on a British ship, and then again to Hol- 
land. They thought I must in reality be a 
British spy v^hose "escape" from England had 
been carefully arranged. Even my passport 
issued by the consul at Durban was regarded 
as an extremely successful forgery. 

Luckily for me, I had brothers in Germany 
v^hose standing w^as above suspicion, one 
being a prominent advocate and one an acting 
officer of the army. They established my 
identity, but this required tw^o days, during 
w^hich time I w^as not allow^ed to w^alk outdoors 
except in company with an officer. But once 
my brothers had confirmed my story the mer- 
cury in the thermometer of my popularity shot 
up as high as it had previously been lov/. 1 

14 



was made the lion of Wesel — a happening 
which confirmed an impression I had long 
since formed of the German mind, both mili- 
tary and civil. It was a small mind, without a 
very w^ide horizon. Trifles can be miraculous 
to it, providing they are novel trifles. Africa 
is a very long w^ay off, to Wesel. Wesel had 
never heard before of a German w^ho came all 
the way from Africa. So, to its people I w^as a 
startling curiosity. They pointed me out to 
each other in the cafes as **der Afrikander,'* 
and were surprised at the color of my skin. 
Hiey had heard Africans w^ere black men. 

Among other proofs of confidence and ad- 
miration, I w^as offered a place in the German 
secret service. This w^as really flattering, for 
such positions are by no means easy to obtain. 
But I declined it. I had not come all that dis- 
tance to play the spy in Amsterdam or Rotter- 
dam. I vs^anted to see something of the w^ar. 

And I found means to obtain my vs^ishes. I 
had brought a good deal of information with 
me. I had, for instance, by copying day by 
day the Borda's noon positions as they vs^ere 
posted on the bulletin board, established the 
new route follow^ed by British merchantmen 
bound from Capetow^n to London. I had ob- 
served conditions in London, and had first- 
hand information of the "control " exercised 
over travelers entering and leaving England. 
All this w^as considered valuable, and because 
I had brought it, because I w^as considered to 
have shown a good deal of cleverness in my 
various escapes, and, also, I suppose, because 

15 



I was a detective and spoke many languages, 
I got that offer to enter the secret service. 

"No," I said, "I w^ant to be in the fighting. 
If I have done anything you consider v^orthy 
of reward, let me say what the reward shall 
be. Accept me as a volunteer, and assign me 
to the regiment w^hich is closest to the enemy 
on the w^estern front." 

You v^ill be surprised, perhaps, to learn 
that there can be any volunteers in a conscript 
army like the German. Strictly speaking, 
there cannot be. 

But volunteer is the nearest English equiva- 
lent for Kriegsfreiw^illiger. By meeting certain 
educational qualifications you used to be able 
— in times of peace — to postpone doing your 
four 3^ears in the army. Then if, in time of vs^ar, 
you come back of your ow^n accord to serve 
w^ith the colors, you are a Kriegsfreiw^illiger, 
v^hich carries certain privileges w^ith it. 
Among other things, you can hope to become 
an officer if you have the grade qualifications. 

So when Captain von Hahnke, in charge of 
the secret service bureau at Wesel, found I was 
unwilling to accept a place in his department, 
he took the necessary steps to aid me in my 
ambition of joining a regiment. "But if you 
are w^ounded or incapacitated for field service 
through sickness," he told me, "report back to 
me and I wrill take care of you in the secret 
service." 

After a short period of training at a base 
camp I w^as appointed to the tenth company of 
the Fifty-seventh Infantry Regiment, and sent 

16 



to France. That was in October, 1914. The 
regiment was lying in the first Hne trenches 
about Aubers and La Bassee canal, and my 
ambition to have a part in the actual fighting in 
this greatest of all w^ars w^as soon amply grati- 
fied, for as a volunteer and "the African" — 
my story had lost nothing of its glamor for 
these untraveled Germans and the title still 
clung to me — 1 v/as given a post of honor. I 
was made one of the regimental couriers — the 
men who transmit the orders of the command- 
ing officers to the under officers immediately 
with the troops. Such duty is perilous and 
often highly responsible. 

Enough has been written already about the 
conditions of trench life and warfare, and I do 
not propose to bore you by writing more. One 
grows habituated to what at first seem its 
horrors and its terrors — the intermittent rain 
of missiles and explosives, the mud, the wet, 
the crude food and all the rest — as one can 
apparently become habituated to anything 
under the sun. One incident, however, I must 
tell you. About a hundred of us recruits had 
been drafted out from the base camp in a body, 
and just behind the first line trenches were 
drawn up for distribution to our various com- 
panies and regiments. As we stood there, in 
a field behind some strawstacks, a single Eng- 
lish shell fell in the midst of us and exploded. 
Instantly the hundred of us vanished. The 
one man left in sight was a much-disgusted 
officer who called to us to fall in. What to 
him was an ordinary part of the day's work 

17 



was to our unaccustomed nerves a cataclysm. 
We were all prone in the mud and grass. It 
was not that we were afraid. There was no 
question of bravery or cowardice, only a ques- 
tion of nerves. One week later they were 
grenade-proof. 

We had the British and the Indian troops in 
the sector of trenches opposed to our, and the 
trenches themselves had principally — water! 
It came up to our waists, and as the watches 
were arranged we made the best of it for 
twenty-four hours, when we were relieved by 
the other half of the regiment and "rested" for 
a day ourselves. 

To call that interim a rest time still strikes 
me as a grim joke. There is far more rest in 
the trenches. To begin with, your officers 
bother you little there. The traditional Prus- 
sian martinet, as far as regards company 
officers and commanders, and even battalion 
commanders, has largely vanished, death and 
promotion in the early days of the war having 
accounted for most of the names on the active 
list. To replace the missing in their minor 
commands reserve officers have been called to 
duty, and since most of these have lived many 
years in civil life, they still reflect the civilian 
point of view. Also, in the trenches, one can 
have one's fill of sleep. There is nothing 
much else to do there. The smallest subdivi- 
sion of a company is a group of eight men, and 
of these only two need be on watch at a time. 
But in reserve, five miles behind the 
trenches, you get little chance to sleep. For 

18 



whatever has become of the old-time Prussian 
officer, the old-time Prussian sergeant still 
blooms there in all his glory, and it is on your 
sergeant, let me tell you, that most of your 
comfort depends. 

For the rank and file, then, "rest time*' 
means a continuous session with the sergeant. 
There are boots to be cleaned, uniforms to be 
scoured of the trench mud, rifles to be cleaned 
and oiled, baths to be taken, something to fill 
every hour of daylight. For me, however, 
those hours meant comparative freedom. As 
a Kriegsfreiwilliger, a courier and an "Afir- 
can" I tacitly took it for granted that I was free 
of small domestic obligations, and for some 
reason or other I was permitted to get away 
with it. I spent my vacations from the 
trenches making small patrols which, if they 
earned me no glory, made me immensely 
popular with the officers of the headquarters 
to which I was attached as courier. 

I did not like the military food. The day we 
were in reserve it meant black coffee and a 
slice of poor rye bread for breakfast, a ladle 
of hot soup — made of vegetables, potatoes, 
barley and a modicum of wheat — with bread 
at noon; for supper more bread and coffee. 
That day, too, was served out to each man a 
bit of cheese or sausage or bacon, with more 
bread, which was destined to be his lunch in 
the trench next day. 

In the trenches the day began at 5.30 with 
black coffee, brought up in buckets four or 
five miles from the field kitchen. At noon the 



19 



men devised what lunch they could, eating 
their cold snack or doing extremely primitive 
cooking in the dugouts. Potatoes saute with 
onions from the deserted fields about was a 
trench specialty. For supper of trench days, 
nothing at all was provided. 

Such food did not appeal to me. As a mat- 
ter of fact, it is not a proper ration, and men 
who have nothing else to eat eventually come 
down with digestive troubles. Hence my 

"patrols." 

Combining the experience gained as a de- 
tective and a free ranger of the veldt 1 thor- 
oughly explored the country in our rear. 
Chickens, eggs, butter, milk and wine were 
my unmilitant objective, and 1 may add that 
my operations were highly successful. No 
other headquarters mess on that whole front 
lived in such fields of clover as mine did. I 
must add, once more, that the French peasants 
did not suffer from my canipaign. There was 
no looting. Everything I took was paid for 
on the spot, in good money and at full price. 
"The African" became a French institution, 

too. 

But those pleasant days — I really call them 
pleasant, looking back — were not to last. 
Along in December, at the time of the first 
snows, the exposure and the constant soaking 
proved too much for me. I came down with 
the fever and was sent to the hopistal at La 
Bassee, a very sick man, barely able to move, 
Once more it looked as if the jig were up. 

I chafed particularly under the conditions, 

20 



because as the time drew on toward Christ- 
mas the air was full of rumors of great things 
soon to come. Apparently if I was ever to see 
fighting of the first magnitude I must see it 
then. So on December 20 I took French leave 
of the hospital and hobbled out to the front. 
The major, mindful of the eggs, butter and 
wine he owned to me, let me stay, and so, by 
luck, I was able to be present at one of the 
hottest actions of the whole war, that great 
storming and capture of the British first line 
trenches at La Bassee, which took place De- 
cember 20 and 2 1 , 1 9 1 4, one of the many occa- 
sions on which that bloodstained wrinkle in 
the earth known as the International Trench 
at La Bassee was captured by one party 
or other. It lies in a hollow, is flooded 
with water and is attackabel from all di- 
rections. During one period of twenty days 
it was held successively by the troops of three 
different nations. 

We attacked at 8 a. m., after a night of 
preparation by the artillery, and I must admit 
at once that my part was purely ornamental, 
and not very decorative at that. One night in 
the flooded trenches had brought my fever all 
back. However, I was there, and when the 
charge was sounded managed to scramble and 
roll out of our trench onto the long-desired 
strip of No Man's Land, and hobbled about 
there, using my rifle as a crutch, until the 
enemy had been obliged to run back along his 
traverses to his second line. Then outraged 
Nature rebeled and struck me motionless. I 



21 



could not move a single muscle. Even my 
tongue and lips w^ere stiff. 

The stretcher bearers took me back to the 
field hospital at La Bassee; from there, with 
the next batch of sick and wounded, I was re- 
moved further to the rear — in a springless farm 
cart which I still remember with no feeling of 
affection — to the hospital at Marquilles. Fol- 
lowed spells of hospital at Carvin, Dunn, 
Douai, and finally Nurnberg, where for the 
first time w^e came under the care of w^omen 
as nurses. Finally, at the beginning of April, 
1915, I w^as pronounced convalescent and sent 
to the regimental base hospital of the Fifty- 
seventh, at the same fortress of Wesel, wrhere 
I had first entered Germany, and to w^hich, you 
may remember, Captain von Hahnke, in 
charge of the secret service bureau there, had 
invited me to report in case anything led me 
to reconsider my determination not to enter 
his branch of the service. 

Once more I find myself compelled to speak 
of food. Theoretically, the food supply of 
German military hospitals is excellent. The 
doctors order w^ithout stinting special diet for 
any patient w^ho needs it, and special diet 
comprises such delicacies as eggs, ham, butter, 
cocoa and fresh milk. The orders are given in 
all good faith, but in my experience are not 
aWays carried out. There seems to be a fair 
supply of such special provisions, but they 
sometimes fail to reach their intended goal. 
If you w^onder w^hy, ask the hospital cooks and 
orderlies. I have seen them frying up four 

22 



eggs apiece for their own use. And 1 have 
knowledge of their selling hospital food sup- 
plies to French villagers who had money to 
tempt them. 

Wesel, as a fortress, is comparatively insig- 
nificant, but from a secret service point of 
view it is at present one of the most important 
places in all Germany. Of course the brain 
of the espionage system is still in the Wilhelm- 
strasse, as it has always been. But the diffi- 
culty of getting into or out of Germany under 
war conditions makes it necessary to have an 
outside "clearing house" through which the 
information coming from foreign countries 
can be transmitted to Germany. Holland 
meet this need admirably, and the connecting 
link between Holland and Berlin is Wesel. It 
is espionage headquarters for the whole west- 
ern front. 

When I reached Wesel 1 found that Captain 
von Hahnke had been succeeded in command 
by Captain-Lieutenant Freyer of the Imperial 
Navy. But the story of "the African" was 
still remembered, and Captain Freyer at once 
offered me a position in Rotterdam. I was still 
in bad head health, but as the work was to be 
indoors I accepted the offer and went on to 
Rotterdam, not a little curious to see the actual 
workings of the service of which the world has 
heard so much. 

The chief of the German secret service in 
Holland, I had been told, was Captain Vollard, 
a German navy officer, whose falsified pass- 
port — without which he could not remain in 

23 



The Netherlands — represents him to be the 
manager of a big German newspaper, * 'Ham- 
burger Freinderblatt." He Uves in the Claacs 
de Vrieselaam, in Rotterdam, and I drove past 
the number given me — an unpretentious 
house — dismissed my taxi a f evv^ blocks further 
on, and walked back to present myself. 

At the door of the house a little girl, not 
more than fourteen years old, w^as standing. 

**Are you Herr ?" she asked as I came up. 

Very much surprised, I ansv^^ered that I was. 

"Come in," said the little girl. "Captain 
Vollard is expecting you," and I w^as shovs^n 
into a big v^aiting room from vvrhich a number 
of doors led into other apartments. All these 
doors, and all the doors I had passed on the 
w^ay upstairs w^ere closed, but presently one 
of them opened and I was show^n into Captain 
Vollard's office. With him w^ere several offi- 
cers I had met before and knew^ to be in the 
secret service under Freyer. Greetings were 
exchanged and then Captain Vollard and 1 
w^ere left alone. I should add, perhaps, that at 
Wesel I had retrieved my English togs and 
w^as w^earing them once more. 

It w^as decided that I should go to w^ork that 
afternoon, and w^hile vv^e w^ere arranging de- 
tails the telephone bell jingled. Vollard 
reached for the instrument, and from his con- 
versation I v/as astounded to learn that he w^as 
talking to Captain Freyer's office in Wesel. 
The border w^as closed, and there w^as sup- 
posedly no telephone connection betw^een Ger- 
many and Holland. 

24 



Captain Vollard noticed my surprise, and 
when he had finished talking turned to me. 
*'That," he said, "is one of the secrets -with 
which you are now entrusted. This line is 
the only one betw^een Holland and Germany. 
So far as the public know^s it does not exist. 
You will have to do a lot of telephoning over 
it w^hile you are attached to this office, for all 
the information 1 gather here goes to Captain 
Freyer over this telephone, except what is 
sent on by special courier." 

As w^e talked a young w^oman in the early 
tw^enties was reading notes from a number of 
slips of paper to Freyer' s office over the tele- 
phone. This office is the leak by w^hich all 
secret service information coming into Hol- 
land dribbles into Germany. Captain Vollard 
himself speaks several languages, and every 
day reads through the Dutch, French and 
English papers, checking off the passages 
w^hich he wishes to have relayed. Tvv^o young 
w^omen translate them and send them on to 
Wesel in the manner I have just described. 

The Captain also has runners out w^ho 
watch the new^spaper bulletins for cable new^s 
or other information. The moment anything 
important is announced, one of these runners 
jumps into a cab and hurries to Vollard's 
home. Other runners frequent the cafes and 
business districts, vs^here they pick up any in- 
formation they can. 

Most French and Belgian spies gather in 
Poll's Cafe, Rotterdam, w^hile the German 
spies rather favor the Cafe Sw^iss. These men, 

25 



who might be called the rank and file of the 
espionage system, for the most part know 
each other, but do not know the heads of their 
departments nor the men and women who are 
doing the special work. They know the men 
to whom they report, but that is about all, the 
social line being drawn quite as sharply here 
as in the army. The runners associate with 
each other and their superiors keep to them- 
selves. 

Runners also watch the steamship piers 
and report to Vollard's office everything that 
goes into a vessel bound for Great Britain or 
France. If there is a consignment of copper, 
for instance, put aboard a ship, the fact is im- 
mediately transmitted to Wesel and from there 
to Berlin. Does such information seem a com- 
paratively insignificant result to obtain from 
the use of all this complicated machinery? 
Then just remember for a moment how^ strenu- 
ously from the outset Germany has objected to 
the British blockade of her ports and insisted 
on her right to retaliate by destroying enemy 
shipping w^ith her submarines, and you w^ill 
begin to understand how^ important to her the 
espionage system is and w^hy the administra- 
tion of it has been put almost w^holly into the 
hands of naval officers, who have replaced the 
army men detailed for such work before the 
vv^ar. I believe it is no exaggeration to say that 
. if Germany had not had the maritime informa- 
tion she has received through Holland, she 
would already be hopelessly beaten. 

All spies coming from a foreign country 

26 



into Rotterdam report first to Captain Vol- 
lard's subordinate, Dr. Brant, who is immedi- 
ately in control of all the foreign spies. Most 
of Brant's spies work through commercial 
houses. There are men going into France and 
a few into England even, as travelers for 
houses with whom the British or French have 
done business for fifty or sixty years. Yet 
they are spies, though almost always the firms 
for which they work are ignorant of that phase 
of their activities. Such spies have been in 
the employ of Germany for many years. Long 
;ago the Wilhelmstrasse foresaw that when 
v^ar actually came espionage work would have 
to be done through neutral countries, and ac- 
cordingly enlisted the service of men reputably 
known in the various foreign capitals and 
ports. 

My work in Captain Vollard's office w^as 
the translation and forwarding of papers, mes- 
sages and information. It was not very excit- 
ing, but I seemed to be getting on with it well 
enough, when suddenly the South African in 
me broke out, and got me into what later 
promised to be serious trouble. 

The original occasion of it w^as simple 
enough. I w^as suddenly ordered to carry 
some dispatches into Wesel. My health was 
still wretched, and I had been promised, you 
remember, that my w^ork w^ould be w^holly in 
the office. So I demurred, and when the mat- 
ter w^as pressed, flatly refused to go. That is 
w^hat 1 meant by the South African in me 
breaking out. Insubordination, to a German 

27 



bred as well as born there, would be inconceiv- 
able. But I not only found it conceivable: I 
rather enjoyed it. 

Hot words passed between Captain Vollard 
and myself. I did not go to Wesel, but we 
were never friends after that, and a fortnight 
later I was recalled to Wesel. That \\ras my 
only punishment; not a very harsh one for 
such insubordination as mine had been. But 
as a matter of fact I believe that I was under 
suspicion, and that my superiors, instead of 
imprisoning me, preferred to leave me free in 
order that they might "get something on me." 

My reception at Wesel convinced me that I 
was thoroughly in disfavor, if not in disgrace. 
Without ceremony I was ushered into the pres- 
ence of Captain Freyer, who scowled blackly 
at me. " ," he said, without formal greet- 
ing, "it is the custom of the government to 
imprison until the end of the war any member 
of the secret service who returns from a neutral 
country after having had the slightest trouble 
with his superiors. Those returning from 
enemy countries call for a still severer treat- 
ment. Your case seems to be somewhat a 
special one, and I am going to give you one 
more chance, at the risk of departing from 
the rules of discipline. I think you can still be 
of use. You say you are sick. All right, for 
the present I am going to send you to join the 
sick company of your regiment at Emmerich. 
That is all." 

So to Emmerich I went, the South African 
in me more anti-Prussianized than ever. I had 



28 



gone through a good deal for Germany, of my 
own free will. I did not seem to be gettmg 
very many thanks. Also, I reaUzed that 1 
stood in some danger. It is much more un- 
healthy to fall under the displeasure of the 
German miUtary authorities than it is in Great 
Britain. The Germans "use powder" freely. 



29 



I was ordered to the wounded company of 
my regiment. You understand just what 
that means. Since the war began German 
regiments — there are four companies of a war 
strength of 400 men each to a battahon and 
three battalions to a regiment — are made up of 
two sorts of companies, war companies at the 
rear and recruit companies at the front. No man 
can join a wounded company till after service 
at the front. 

To such companies many small favors are 
granted, and from a German point of view life 
in them is comparatively easy. Here is the 
schedule of a day: Five a. m., reveille; 5.20, 
assembly for black coffee and black bread; 
6 a. m. to I 1.30 a. m., drill in full marching 
equipment; then till 2.30, dinner and rest; 
2.30 p. m. till 5.30 p. m., more drill, baths, 
tramps, etc.; 5.30 till 6.45, clean rifles and 
equipment; 7 p. m., supper, and then freedom 
till (when taps calls for lights out). If that is 
easy, you can imagine what active life in a 
recruit company means. 

Every Monday the wounded company is 
subjected to medical examination, and all 
members of it who can be returned either to 
"garrison duty," which means sentry-go about 
ammunition depots and the like, or to full duty, 
which means to return to the trenches. That 

30 



return is not made in a body, but the old hands 
are distributed among the recruit companies 
of each new transport, to exercise a steadying 
effect on the raw material until it finds itself. 
Despite the rigid weeding-out to which they 
are constantly subjected, the wounded com- 
panies tend to grow in size as the war goes on. 
Some of them now contain six hundred men, 
while the companies in the trenches, despite 
constant recruiting, are reduced to one hun- 
dred and fifty and even less men. 

The recruits go to the front with compara- 
tive cheerfulness still. Not so the veterans. 
You have only to watch for a littel the eager- 
ness with which men strive to be retained in a 
wounded company to realize that however 
high the command may feel the German sol- 
dier who knows what it is from experience has 
had his fill of war. 

Emmerich is a town and fortress on the Dutch 
frontier of German. I went there under escort 
and joined the wounded company of the Fifty- 
seventh, which was assigned to duty there as 
a border guard. Again I had the dehghtful 
feeling that I was only given seeming liberty 
in the hope that I might trip myself. Indeed, 
I was informed by an aide of Captain Freyer 
that a single slip on my part would mean im- 
prisonment until the end of the war, and per- 
haps w^orse. 

I also learned it was suspected that I had 
been in communication with the British consul 
while I was in Rotterdam — a pleasant bit of 
new^s. 



31 



Before I had been in Emmerich Ions mv ill- 
nessagam became acute. The local police had 
orders to arrest me if 1 attempted to leave the 
town. My mail was under surveillance. I 
could not even talk with a civilian without 
bemg closely watched, and 1 presume every 
word I said was noted. ^ 

So a disagreeable summer passed. The mid- 
dle of November, 1915, I took over duty at 
tmmench and was put in charge of a telephone 
station on the mam road from the Dutch fron- 
tier Along It great quantities of supplies were 
continually passing from Holland into Ger! 
many. Much of the material was smuggled 
m. At least the Dutch officials mustfave 
wmked at its passage. Hundreds of horses 
went by my station every morning with truck 
loads of iron, brass and copper a^nd tanks of 
oil. Of course all the soldiers along the line 
were required td aid in the passage of h"s 
material. I made it my business !o mingle 

^nd th^r ^""^ '"'*7!,'^ '^^'^ acquaintance, 
and they soon regarded me as a fixture there 
one of themselves. My purpose in so doing 
you have probably guessed already. ^ 

anlriif^'T^'^'y T'^ °^ '^^ ^«™^" army 

X kk 1 u ^"'^ "^^y^- ' ^a« continually treated 

shabbily by my superiors, and well knew that 

was under grave suspicion. It seemed to me 

see to It that I was imprisoned, if not worse 
Furthermore, as I have said, I was alwayrmore 
British than anything else, at heart. Getting 
mto Germany and seeing some fighting had 



been an amusing adventure. But now it had 
ceased to be amusing and I had quite enough 
of it. I wanted to get out. The question was, 
how could it be done. I thought I saw a way. 

In my company there was an oil merchant 
frorn Duesberg, who frequently assisted in 
passing along consignments of oil, in some of 
which he had a personal interest. I made a 
friend of him, and was seen much in his com- 
pany, often helping him to get the stuff over 
the border. 

One night I took advantage of this fact. I 
borrowed a bicycle and wandered out among 
the outposts inquiring for a consignment of 
oil which I said was about to be smuggled into 
Germany. None of them had heard of it as 
yet, and with the excuse I kept continually 
working toward the outskirts of our lines until 
I was on a road one side of which was Holland 
and the other Germany. About 8 p. m. I in- 
quired at an outpost for the mythical oil. The 
men there knew nothing about it, and friendly 
suggested that I go on to the next post, a quar- 
ter of a mile away. I went — and once I was 
out of sight I steered across the road into Hol- 
land, dropped my bicycle among some bushes 
and went up a side lane to a farmhouse where 
a dim light showed. 

A Hollander was living there with his wife, 
who was a Belgian. I was in uniform, and the 
farmer asked me if I wished to buy supplies. 
I said I had come to stay, and just then a girl 
came in to buy some milk. She heard me ask- 
ing the farmer where I could buy some civilian 

33 



clothes which would fit me, and informed me 
that she lived nearby and had a brother about 
my size who would undoubtedly sell me 
clothes. I went home with her and paid the 
brother 50 gulden, about $25, for a greasy old 
peasant's suit and a night's lodging. It was 
the last money I had, with the exception of two 
marks, which went next day to buy a tie and 
collar from the local schoolmaster. 

I changed into civilian attire, wrapped my 
discarded uniform in a bundle, crept down to 
the border and tossed it over to Germany. 
Then I went back to the farmhouse and had 
been there half an hour when the door opened 
and in stalked two Dutch soldiers accom- 
panied by a German saloonkeeper whom I 
knew^. 

The soldiers asked me who and what I was. 
As I spoke Dutch, I told them I was a Hol- 
lander. But the saloonkeeper interrupted me 
continually. ^ "He is no Hollander," he kept 
on saying. "I know him well. He is a Ger- 
man and he has deserted from the army. You 
must arrest him. That is the law." 

**I am of Dutch descent," 1 insisted. "1 am 
a South African. My home is in the Trans- 
vaal, and I wish to return there. You have no 
right to stop me. If I was a deserter, where is 
my uniform? If I had come to Holland in the 
uniform of a German soldier, then you could 
arrest me. But as it is, I have as much right 
to be here as you have." 

The soldiers were afraid to take a chance, 
and I was escorted to the local military head- 

34 



quarters and locked up there for the night. Next 
day the Dutch commandant examined me, and 
representatives of the authorities at Emmerich 
appeared, asking to have me returned to them. 
The commandant vv^as in a quandary. A straw 
vv^ould tip the balance either w^ay. I supplied 
the straw^. 

While the vs^iseacres vv^ere at their delibera- 
tions, I asked my guards if they vv^ould object 
to my w^riting and mailing a postcard. As I 
expected, they gladly gave permission, think- 
ing of course that I v^ould in some vs^ay entrap 
myself. 

I addresesd my card to the British consul at 
Rotterdam. I had crossed the border, I said, 
in citizen's clothing, and had been taken pris- 
oner by a Dutch outpost. I asked that if I had 
not reached Rotterdam next morning the con- 
sul w^ould take steps to see that I was not fur- 
ther interfered vv^ith. 

It w^as a clumsy enough ruse, trumped up 
hurriedly to meet the exigency of the moment. 
But it w^orked. The soldiers show^ed the card 
to the commandant. The commandant, see- 
ing me thus officially (?) connected w^ith the 
British Government, did not dare to return me 
to Germany. Instead, he let me go. 

I had no money at all. But in Sevenaar I 
had a nodding acquaintance with a tavern 
keeper, and he took a chance and loaned me 
the few shillings needed to travel third class to 
Rotterdam. Third class w^as quite good 
enough for me, in my greasy clothes and with 
a tattered old shavv^l wrapped about my neck. 



In the train I met an escaped French pris- 
oner of war who w^as being taken to Rotter- 
dam by Dutch soldiers. He had escaped from 
the mines at Duesberg, as had many others. 
The train was scarcely in motion w^hen a well- 
dressed man, evidently a German, engaged 
the prisoner in conversation. 

To me, in my old clothes, no one paid much 
attention. The w^ell-dressed man asked the 
Dutch soldiers, casually enough, how the 
Frenchman had escaped. They shrugged 
their shoulders and declined to speculate. But 
the Frenchman started to tell his whole story. 
I kicked him in the shins, and when he con- 
tinued to talk, I said to him in French : 

"My friend, it is a good rule never to talk 
on trains. This man speaking to you is a Ger- 
man. If he finds out howr you got aw^ay, you 
may be sure no more of your comrades w^ill 
have a chance to escape." 

I could see by the twitching of the German's 
cheek that he was very much excited by the 
episode. But he said nothing, and at the next 
station left the train. At the same station a 
Belgian got into our compartment, and soon 
engaged the Frenchman in conversation. 
Again he started to tell his story. Again I 
shut him off, and this time deliberately ac- 
cused the Belgian of being a German spy. I 
should say here that the rank and file of the 
German espionage service in Holland is com- 
posed of Belgians. In saying that, I mean only 
men and women born in Belgium. The Bel- 
gians as a people are loyal, faithful and patri- 
ae 



otic, just as they have been pictured to the 
world. The Belgian born who are in the 
Kaiser's secret service are no more true Bel- 
gians than Benedict Arnold w^as a true Ameri- 
can. There are parasites w^hose motto is, 
**Gold is w^orth as much under one flag as an- 
other." 

During my trip the Germans had w^ired 
through from Sevenaar that there w^as a Ger- 
man deserter on the train. At Rotterdam, be- 
fore w^e could leave the raiWay terminal, we 
were obliged to pass inspection by the military 
authorities. As I passed before the officer in 
command, a German spy was standing by his 
side. 

"Hello!" he hailed me. '* You're a German 
deserter, aren't you?" 

I gave him a glassy eye that vvrould have 
been a how^ling success in any countryhouse 
in England. "What the bally deuce do you 
mean?" I asked him, cuttingly, "by saying 
that sort of thing?" 

It took me through. He w^ilted. 

When 1 was in Rotterdam before, on my 
assignment in the German secret service, 1 had 
spent money lavishly. Now^ it stood me in 
good stead. From a barber w^hom I had 
treated generously, I procured clothes in which 
to make a decent appearance. My riding togs, 
alas, w^ere gone forever now! 

Once rendered presentable, I sought my old 
haunts. Pool's and the Cafe Swiss, to hear the 
gossip of what was going on. After hanging 
about there long enough to get my bearings I 

37 



went to a hotel, and fell in with some Belgians 
w^ho knew of my connection with the espion- 
age service. 

You might think that once in Holland my 
troubles w^ould be over; and, indeed, those of 
them that involved personal injury or recapture 
were; but I had a great many other difficulties 
to overcome before I could feel, in a manner 
of speaking, firm ground beneath my feet. For 
once having got into Holland, my next step 
was to get out of it — on the side farthest from 
Germany — and how I was to do that was, for 
the time being, quite beyond me. But I man- 
aged to do it at last. 

I lived in a restaurant in Rotterdam, know^n 
by the name of Simon's, a great rendezvous for 
Belgian spies ; and in the course of a short time 
got to know^ these gentlemen intimately. To 
them I told my story, and expressed my desire 
to be quit of Holland, and to get back to my 
old home in South Africa. 

*'Well," said one of the them, "have no more 
fears on that score. If the thing can be done — 
and 1 think I can — vv^e w^ill do it for you. At 
any rate, you may be sure of our help, and that 
is aWays something." 

These men w^ere as good as their word. They 
guaranteed my bills in Simon's, w^here there 
w^as a sort of lodging house upstairs. At one 
time, that section of the house may have been 
roomy enough, but at the time of w^hich I 
speak, it vv^as, to say the least, congested. The 
owner had divided the room into many smaller 
chambers by the erection of w^ooden parti- 



38 



tions; and each room so made had space for 
little besides an occupant, and a not over large 
bed. The partitions were exceedingly thin, 
and for that reason were practically non-exist- 
ent so far as sound w^as concerned, so that 
w^hen I w^as not sleeping I was being enter- 
tained w^ith a variety of conversation on every 
know^n subject, for I could hear everything 
that w^as said on my floor. It w^as very inter- 
esting. 

I have mentioned, I think, that I tried the 
British authorities first, but w^ithout success. 
This time I w^as to have better luck in another 
direction. After three w^eeks spent at Simon's, 
a member of the Belgian espionage system 
took me to the French Military Attache at The 
Hague. 

I repeated my story in full to that official, 
and, after he had put a great many shrew^d 
questions to me, calculated to upset my story 
altogether if the w^hole vsras not founded on 
fact, he assured me that if everything w^as as 
I said, the British would play the game, and 
allow^ me to get through into England. As an 
evidence of my sincerity and good faith, he 
then ordered me to visit Mr. Holdert of the 
Amsterdam "Telegraaf," and give him the 
inside story of the vs^orkings of the German 
espionage system in Rotterdam. 

Such a story w^ould prove conclusively to 
both sides that I w^as w^ith the Allies. I visited 
Mr. Holdert accordingly, and gave him the 
story ; and the next morning it appeared in full 
in the pages of the ''Telegraaf." 

39 



I 'was then sent back to Rotterdam to await 
final orders from the French Military Attache, 
which w^ould be conveyed to me through the 
Belgian spies. I remained in Simon's Hotel 
for a w^eek, and at the end of that time w^as 
ordered to report to Flushing, w^here the Bel- 
gians took me before the British consul. 

Tliat official then issued me a passport that 
would take me safely across the Channel and 
allow^ me to enter England. He informed me 
that I w^as to embark for England on the fol- 
low^ing morning and that I w^ould be expected 
at Tillbury Docks, w^here the boat w^ould land. 

Accordingly, the following morning I 
boarded my vessel, the S. S. Princess Juliana, 
and set sail for England. There w^ere about a 
hundred people aboard, among whom the 
South African got along very well; and after 
the voyage, remarkable for nothing in particu- 
lar, we arrived safely at Tillbury Docks. 

At the docks the pasengers vs^ere marshaled 
into line to aw^ait, each in turn, an inspection 
and general going over by the military. Upon 
going ashore I began to cast my eyes about for 
the gentleman I w^as told w^ould meet me. 
There w^as a great concourse of people in the 
enclosure, and I had not not been told what 
sort of man to expect, but I spotted him im- 
mediately. To a man w^ith a detective's train- 
ing, there are certain marks about other detec- 
tives that are unmistakable. The man 1 sin- 
gled out had them in a high degree. I walked 
up to him at once, and gave him my name. He 
raised his eyebrows in surprise, and regarded 

40 



me with a comical expression of astonishment. 

"Well," he said at last, "that beats me!" 

I laughed at his wonder and told him it was 
a simple enough thing to do; that it was not a 
piece of black magic as he semed to think. He 
then took me immediately to the military 
officer w^ho w^as examining the passengers. 
This surprised me, for I had expected to stand 
in line and wait my turn. But I was evidently 
considered a person of some importance, for 
we avoided the crowd altogether and went into 
the office by a side door. 

My detective introduced me to the captain, 
w^ho shook hands with me very cordially and 
welcomed me to England. When he had gone 
over my papers and we had had some small con- 
versation together, the captain asked me where 
I was going to stay! Here was news, indeed! 
I had confidently expected to be herded into 
some detention camp and kept there to await 
the pleasure of the British Government. But 
no; the captain assured me that I was a free 
agent and that I might stop at any hotel that 
appealed to my fancy. 1 can give you no ade- 
quate idea of how that news w^armed my heart. 
I had returned to England with a great many 
misgivings as to the manner of my reception; 
I had hoped to be treated well, I had feared the 
opposite. But lo! I was received w^ith open 
arms, and in a manner that indicated I was 
completely trusted. 

That evening the detective took me to Lon- 
don, direct to Scotland Yard. We were too 
late to see Acting Governor Thompson; and 



41 



so, in company with Sergeant Ginhoven, an 
old Dutchman in the detective service, I went 
out to seek a hotel. I decided on one in a very 
short time; not because of its desirability or 
elegance, but because of its nearness to the 
Yard. The next morning I saw^ Mr. Thomp- 
son and the military authorities. They asked 
me to make a detailed report of all the informa- 
tion I had in my posession concerning the Ger- 
man spy system. 

I returned to the hotel immediately, and 
wrote the report on the back of the hotel letter 
paper, and submitted it. I w^as informed rather 
curtly that the report would as handed in 
w^ould not serve; that I, as a competent detec- 
tive, should have know^n better than to make 
out a report of that sort in such a manner. In 
short, I w^as ordered to make out the report all 
over again; this time on legal foolscap. 

It required four w^eeks to verify the truth of 
the assertion I made in my report, during 
w^hich time I had many very pleasant days in 
London. Indeed, I began to feel very much at 
home, until one day I was brought up short, 
and was forced to realize that my position in 
the community was not what I had imagined it 
to be. It came about in this w^ay. I had men- 
tioned to Sergeant Ginhoven that I did not 
care for the hotel at w^hich I w^as stopping. 

*'Well,*' said he, "there are no chains on you 
my dear, sir. Go anywrhere you please.'* 

Accordingly, the next morning w^e w^ent to 
Southampton Row, and applied at a private 
hotel just opposite the Bedford, w^here I had 

42 



stopped on my previous eventful trip to Lon- 
don. The proprietor of the hotel at which v^e 
applied w^as a grim, dour Scotchman, and 
when Sergeant Ginhoven told him I was a 
German, he looked me over with a cold, un- 
friendly eye. 

*A German!*' he cried. **See here, sir, my 
father is the greatest hater of Germans in all 
England; if I was to take him in, he would 
never forgive me. He'd never live under the 
same roof with him, and that's a certainty. 
This is a private hotel, you know, and I don't 
have to take him in. No, no," he added, *'he 
cannot come in here." And he shut his mouth 
tightly, and looked grimmer than ever. 

This was like a dash of cold water to me. It 
dampened all my former happiness. I had be- 
gun to fancy myself on an equal footing with 
all 1 saw or met, and to find one of them dis- 
criminating against me, made me feel very 
much alone, and very much of an outsider. I 
turned away with something of a heavy heart, 
but Sergeant Ginhoven, who saw my depres- 
sion, laughed the whole thing off good 
naturedly, and bade me cheer up. 

Once outside, he called a taxi, and took me 
to the Strand Palace, in the Strand. 1 found 
the Strand Palace to be an excellent hotel, 
filled with military officers. The hotel, I was 
glad to learn, was a public one, and its man- 
ager a Swiss. When Sergeant Ginhoven 
asked him if he would take in a German for 
whom the government would pay liberally, he 
smiled broadly and asked, "Why not?" 

43 



''Besides/' he added, *'here we have to take 
every one. And to be frank, it makes little 
difference to me v^rhat you are. You are vs^el- 
come for your ow^n sake.** 

At that, I felt a great deal better. I should 
have said that the British Government vv^as 
paying my expenses at the hotel, and allowing 
me plenty of spending money besides; so that, 
altogether I had a very pleasant time during 
the weeks that ensued. I traveled all over Lon- 
don, and so far as I know, was never spied 
upon. 

At the end of the fourth week I was sum- 
moned to Scotland yard. When I entered the 
office I found my self confronting several 
gentlemen. There were Acting Governor of 
Scotland Yard Thompon, a Captain Carter, 
a naval officer, and several others. When I 
entered Mr. Thompson rose and greeted me; 
then he took a paper from his desk and wrent 
over the points of information I had furnished 
him with. When he had finished he laid his 
hand on a sum of money which was lying on 
his desk. The money, he told me, was mine, 
in payment for my services. Captain Carter 
then got up, and in a short, hearty speech, 
thanked me in the name of the British Gov- 
ernment, ending his talk by informing me that 
I w^as to go abroad a steamer bound for New 
York the following morning. Everything had 
been arranged by them beforehand, and all I 
had to do was to walk aboard. My getting out 
of the country w^as necessary by reason of the 
law that no enemy alien may remain in Eng- 



44 



land. And so, after shaking hands all around, 
I bade good-bye to them and to England. 

On the voyage to New York I again became 
known as the **South African.'* The pas- 
sengers were all exceedingly kind to me; but 
better than that, I met a most charming Eng- 
lish lady aboard, who has since become my 
w^ife. 

And now that I am in New York I can see 
that the results of my apparently foolish thirst 
for adventure are many and beneficial. 1 have 
got a liberal education in self-dependency; my 
wits have been sharpened and my mind broad- 
ened ; I have gone through adventures that w^ill 
remain in my memory when all the drab com- 
monplaces of life have faded from it — and last 
and best, I have got a v^ife. And the last con- 
sideration alone was worth it all. 



45 



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